


The Infinity of Finite Things

by Namarie



Series: The Universe, and Everything [2]
Category: Life (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Namarie/pseuds/Namarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kidnapping and rescue, from Charlie's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Infinity of Finite Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to my previous fic, "Found". You don't have to read "Found" first, but if you want Reese's POV, you can find (ha) it there.

It happens too fast for him to try to run. One moment, Charlie is enjoying the cool morning air as he strolls along the sidewalk, and the next, a group of five men in black clothes and ski masks have surrounded him. Only one of them appears to be armed, though all of them look more than ready for a fight.

There is a moment of silence. Charlie begins to inch his hand toward his holster, where his weapon is waiting, as he smiles brightly at the men. “Beautiful morning, isn't it?”

“Get your hands where we can see them!” the short guy right in front of him barks.

Charlie's smile vanishes. “Or you'll do what?” He slowly closes his hand around the gun, wondering if he can possibly beat these odds. “You didn't shoot me when you had the element of surprise, which means you must want me for something. And if you want me for something, I'm guessing you want me alive for that something.”

The man sneers and steps closer, sticking the barrel of his gun in Charlie's side. “Alive, yeah, you're right. But no one said anything about keeping you in one piece. So move it, Crews,” he orders. “And get your hands up.”

With reluctance, Charlie takes his hands out of his pockets and raises them.

“Search him,” Boss Man commands the next closest thug.

“But I thought you wanted me to move,” Charlie points out, only to have the barrel of the handgun pushed even harder into his ribs.

The underling finds and removes Charlie's gun, his phone, and his knife. He tosses the phone onto the edge of the sidewalk, and hands the weapons to Boss Man, who pockets the knife and puts the gun at his belt. Charlie frowns. _I am not attached to that knife_ , he tells himself.

“All right. Let's go.” With another nudge from the gun, Charlie starts forward. He wishes he hadn't chosen the more deserted part of this trail to take his walk. Anywhere else, five men dressed all in black carrying out a kidnapping in broad daylight would have already been noticed. Still, he reflects, if he were to make a break for it now, he might attract more notice, at least.

A gray van approaches the group. Before it pulls up alongside them, Charlie hears the sound of laughter and conversation from not far off over the crest of the hill. He tenses, ready to take off, but the gun barrel is immediately moved from his back to his neck. “Don't try anything, Crews.”

“Boss, we're about to have company,” a different voice from behind him puts in nervously.

“I know that, I'm not deaf,” Boss Man snaps. “Knock him out already.”

At this, Charlie decides he doesn't care about the gun at his neck and begins to struggle and yell. In response, one of the thugs hits him hard in the stomach, robbing him of breath while two others grab his arms and hold him still as a chemical-smelling cloth is held over his nose and mouth. The last thing Charlie sees before blackness overtakes him is the back doors of the gray van opening and more men inside.

~

Charlie comes awake gradually in the back of the van, his head swimming and his hands almost bloodless from being tied roughly behind his back. Though he is not blindfolded, he can't seem to focus on anything around him – not that there is much to see from the floor of the vehicle. His hearing seems oddly muffled, as well: though his captors are obviously talking as they drive him who knows where, it is hard to pick out more than the occasional phrase.

One thing, however, catches his attention even through the haze. It sounds for all the world like one of the men has just said something about “get to Rayborn.”

Charlie blinks and groans through the gag in his mouth. The last time Rayborn had kidnapped him, it hadn't been nearly this painful. And these men do not seem nearly as professional as those involved in that incident, either.

This is as far as he is able to think about the matter. Whatever they gave him is tugging him back down into unconsciousness, and he doesn't think it's worth it to resist right now.

~

The van's back doors open, and Charlie becomes aware that he is being dragged out to stand extremely unsteadily on his feet, held up by two men. He tries to keep his eyes open. A distant part of his brain notices that the gag has slipped out of his mouth, but he can't summon up a reason why that should be important.

The men holding him up keep pushing him forward. By the brightness of the sun, Charlie can tell that it can't be much later than it was when he was first taken.

After another few yards of walking/being dragged along when he stumbles, Charlie finds that he is inside a building. Those supporting him stop at one point and lean him against the wall. “Your roommate wants to hear you talk,” one of them says, holding a cell phone to his face.

Charlie blinks. _Ted._ They want him to talk to Ted. “Hi, Ted,” he finally manages to say.

“Charlie? Are-- are you okay?”

“I'm not sure,” Charlie tells him honestly. It's been a long time since he's heard quite that undercurrent of fear in Ted's voice. “Ted, you--”

“All right, that's enough,” the masked man says, moving the phone away. Charlie is prodded forward again. “Better hope your pal is smart enough to give us what we want.”

He is dumped unceremoniously into an empty, darkened room, and the door is slammed and locked after the thugs leave.

The floor of the room is cold. Although there is a small curtained window in the wall behind him through which some light penetrates, Charlie cannot help being reminded of a cell. He shivers and closes his eyes. For now, this is the easiest way for him to deal with the situation.

Hours go by. As the drug wears off, Charlie wakes more fully, and maneuvers himself into a sitting position against the far wall of the room. There is nothing around him that he can use to cut through the ropes around his hands. He tries his best to loosen the bonds, nonetheless.

After a few minutes of effort, Charlie sighs and leans back against the wall. He can't tell if he's even managed to loosen the knots at all. Meanwhile, he can't hear anything from outside the room. It's quieter, in fact, than it ever was inside Pelican Bay, he thinks darkly – as if it could be comforting that there are no sounds from other prisoners or from guards. He doesn't want to make comparisons to Pelican Bay. Resolutely, he turns his musings to more pleasant topics. He wonders what Reese is doing, and whether Ted has called her by now. Reese is probably looking for him right now, he thinks, and the thought is calming.

More time passes. The light from the window begins to fade. Thirst and hunger make themselves known, and Charlie welcomes the distraction they bring from the sameness of his surroundings.

Not too much time later, the door opens, and two men (still masked) come inside the room. One is holding a gun, and the other a bowl. “Dinner time.”

“Hey, thanks, guys,” Charlie says. “Is it too much to ask that I have my hands free to eat?”

The guy with the gun gestures toward Charlie, and the other guy shrugs, sets the bowl on the floor, and flicks open a knife. Charlie sits still as he is twisted around and the ropes are cut off his hands. “Any news from Ted?” he asks.

“Shut up” is the only response he gets. The two men exit, closing and locking the door once more – and leaving Charlie to find his way toward the food in almost total darkness. He spills some of its contents before locating the bowl of lukewarm canned chicken soup. Still, it quenches both his hunger and thirst well enough.

After he finishes the soup, Charlie stands and explores the room, as much as is possible. He is stiff and sore, and not entirely free from the influence of the sedative, but at least he is able to get his blood flowing again. He also determines that the lock on the door (and the door itself) is very secure. However, it does not take long for him to realize the ulterior motive behind his captors giving him a meal, as dizziness and lassitude start to set in quickly. Charlie staggers over to the wall and collapses again.

~

Some hours later, Charlie is roused by the sound of the door unlocking, and by the light pouring in from the hallway. He attempts to sit up, but only gets partway there before he is hauled to his feet again. “What's goin' on?” he slurs, not expecting an answer. He does not get one.

Charlie notes dully that they have not tied his hands this time before stashing him in the back of the van again. Whatever they put in his food is doing its job well enough.

The van stops after another difficult-to-measure ride. It is nearly pitch black outside, but the thugs do have flashlights to guide them into the deserted apartment complex. There are some stairs to navigate once inside.

When Charlie sees what he assumes to be his intended final destination, he cannot stay still. He struggles against his captors' hold as hard as he can in his drugged state. They are not expecting this much resistance by this point, and so he manages to break free of their grip – only to be halted brutally at the base of the staircase when they catch up to him.

Charlie does his best to fight back against the blows. In prison, he had fought more successfully against more assailants than he faces now, but in prison he wasn't also struggling against a sedative in his system. It isn't too long before he crumples to the floor. The enthusiasm of the masked men to make sure he doesn't try to escape again – and the resulting agony in his ribs, arms, and head - is soon enough to send him back into unconsciousness.

Waking up makes the list of one of the worst moments of his life. He is in total darkness, and when he stretches out his arms, he touches the wall on both sides of him almost immediately. Despite the stabbing pain this causes his lungs and ribs, Charlie pushes himself to his feet in an adrenaline-fueled panic, feeling around the inside of the closet for any way out. He pushes and pounds against the door, to no avail. Finally, gasping painfully and trying as hard as he can to regain control, Charlie sinks to the ground. He knows it's against Zen teaching, but he's pretty sure that the only way he will survive – until someone, until Reese, finds him – is not to stay in the moment. Not this time.

Some unfathomable amount of time passes. He's so deep inside himself that he barely registers it when the door is finally opened. The presence of light and the sound of familiar voices begin to bring him back, but he is reluctant to leave the place of safety to which he has retreated. He doesn't want to face the darkness and the weight of the tiny room pressing in all around him. But now he can tell it is Reese's voice calling him back, and that her hand rests on his arm.

Slowly, Charlie follows the sound of her voice back to the world. He blinks and takes a deep breath (which hurts, he notices). It is still dark – but there is a flashlight on the ground next to him, and in its light he can see Reese, kneeling and watching him carefully. Her hand is still resting on his forearm, and her expression is full of both relief and concern.

Charlie smiles. “Hey, Reese,” he greets her. Despite his surroundings, he suddenly feels much more at peace with the world and with life. “You found me.”

His partner returns the smile, and she clears her throat. “Yeah, Crews. I did.” Her eyes look suspiciously bright. She clears her throat again.

“You all right, Reese?”

Reese stares at him, then shakes her head. “Am _I_ all right?” Before he can point out that she hasn't answered his question, she slides her hand down into his, doing her best to avoid the cuts and bruises. “Come on. Let's get you out of here.”

Only then does Charlie register the sounds of others in the darkened room outside the closet. He thinks about asking who else came on this rescue mission, but he decides it isn't important for the moment. The more urgent thing is to get out of this far too enclosed space – if he can.

Gripping onto Reese's hands, Charlie tries to pull himself up. The sharp, shooting pain in his ribs causes him to wince and nearly fall. He leans against the wall, breathing as shallowly as he can to minimize further pain. He knows from experience that at least one of his ribs is broken, probably several more.

“Crews,” Reese says quietly. She is still watching him, and hasn't let go of his hand. Her strength is one main reason he hasn't already collapsed again. She continues, “Stark already called an ambulance. If you're hurt, you can wait here until--”

“No,” he replies. “Just ... give me a moment.”

Reese gives him a faint nod, recognizing his use of her own words. Just then, there is the sound of footsteps approaching, and Bobby Stark appears in the doorway.

“Hey, Charlie,” he says, looking relieved as soon as he meets his old friend's eyes. “I called you an ambulance. They'll be here in a minute or so.”

Charlie smiles. “Thanks, Bobby.”

Bobby coughs. “You, uh, you want a little help getting out of there?”

“I wouldn't mind it.”

With care, Reese and Bobby put one each of his arms over their shoulders (Charlie closes his eyes as the closet necessarily becomes even more crowded with the three of them in it), and they walk out to the dimly-lit room beyond. An almost collective gasp brings Charlie's eyes open again, to see the dismay on the faces of the other officers.

“Detective Reese,” one of them, a man Charlie recognizes vaguely, hazards, “do you ... want any help?”

Charlie can almost feel her glare. “No, Officer, I do not,” she snaps. “What I want is CSU to get in here ASAP.”

“Yes, ma'am.” The officer heads for the stairs at a sharp pace.

“And the rest of you,” Reese continues briskly, “if you feel like you're in the way, you probably are.”

The remaining cops disperse, leaving Charlie leaning on his partners' shoulders. He's a little worried that he might crush Reese, so he leans more heavily on Bobby.

“Crews, are you doing all right?” Reese asks.

He nods, and then realizes that's hard for her to see at the moment. “Yeah. I think so.”

Bobby clears his throat. “We got two of the guys involved in this, Charlie. And we're gonna find the rest of them, don't you worry.”

Charlie nods again. He's not worried. He will share what he knows about his kidnappers, but not right now. Right now, all he wants is to get out of here and then go home. Sleep on a deck chair by the pool, maybe.

Just then, there is a commotion and the sounds of conversation from upstairs. The officer Reese sent to get more light – Reynolds, Charlie thinks his name might be – shines the beam of a lantern down the stairs and calls out, “We need the stretcher down here.”

Charlie watches silently as the EMTs clatter down the stairs with a stretcher between them. It's getting harder for him to stand upright, so he is very ready to climb onto the stretcher when they stop in front of him. Though his exhaustion levels are rising rapidly, Charlie answers their questions about his injuries as best as he can. When he mentions the sedatives, he thinks he sees Reese's shoulders tense. But it's hard to see in the still-dim lighting.

Bobby and Reese follow the EMTs out of the building. Charlie takes as deep of a breath as he can without causing a lot of pain when they make it outside. Even though it's night, it is good to be out in the open.

“You okay, Detective Crews?” one of the EMTs asks, looking down at him.

He tells the man he is okay, wondering how many times he'll have to answer that question in the next few days.

As the stretcher is lifted into the back of the ambulance, Charlie meets Reese's eyes. She smiles, just a little. “I'll meet you at the hospital.”

“Could you or Bobby call Ted and let him know what's going on?” Charlie asks, as the thought strikes him. He hopes Ted isn't too frantic by now.

“Yeah,” Reese says, looking over at Bobby for a moment before returning her gaze to his. “And we'll call the captain, too.”

Charlie watches her until the ambulance door closes.

~

At the hospital, they treat Charlie's minor injuries and give him a prescription for the pain. From experience, he is not surprised at the very simple course of treatment they recommend for his ribs (the x-ray reveals two are broken, and several are bruised rather than fractured): almost total bed rest for a few days, and limited mobility after that until it doesn't hurt to move anymore. They also draw a couple of vials of blood to do a tox screen. This will hopefully pinpoint what types of drugs Charlie was given, which will be useful for the prosecution of his abductors.

Charlie doesn't want to spend the night in the hospital. His doctors are fine with this, they tell him, as long as he isn't planning to drive himself back home and if he has people there looking after him. Charlie smiles, guessing (correctly) that Reese and Ted will both be waiting for him to take him home.

He doesn't object to the wheelchair he's helped into on the way out of the exam room, but he also politely refuses Ted's offer of help to stand up when they get to Reese's car. _A journey of a thousand miles, after all_ , he thinks as he rises to his feet slowly and stiffly. The single step is about all he can manage, but that's all he needs before he is able to sit down carefully in the passenger's seat. Ted, he notices, sits in the back without complaint.

“You gave Ted a ride here, Reese?” He tries to hold back a yawn as he turns to look at his partner.

“I did,” she replies, glancing at him before she starts the car.

“Huh,” Charlie says.

“What? Charlie, is that-- is there something wrong?” Ted asks from his seat behind Reese.

Charlie shakes his head. “Nope.” He thinks of Ted and Reese working together to find him, and smiles again. “Nothing wrong at all.”

Reese shoots him an odd look, but only shrugs.

Reese pulls up as close to the front door of his house as she can. Charlie is exhausted by the time he reaches the door, but he makes it to the back deck and sinks down with a grateful sigh onto a deck chair. The air has cooled quite a bit from the day, but he barely notices the temperature. It's the sky above him that he's focusing on.

The back door slides open a second after he is settled. Reese walks over, handing him a thick blanket that Charlie recognizes as coming from one of the guest rooms. “You gonna be all right out here with just this, Crews?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Reese,” he replies, taking the blanket and doing his best to spread it out over himself. It's a little tricky to do this without moving his torso at all, and so Reese helps make sure it's covering him. He thanks her again, and she smiles.

After a pause, Reese speaks again. “You should get some sleep. Someone will be by tomorrow to get your statement, if you're up for it.”

“We'll see,” Charlie says. He closes his eyes. He doesn't want to think about that right now. He'd rather think about what he'd like to do on the leave time he will no doubt be getting. He's pretty sure he might actually want to go away this time ... but he doesn't want to go alone.

“See you tomorrow, Crews,” Reese says quietly.

Before she reaches the door, Charlie says her name.

“What, Crews?” His eyes are still closed, but he imagines her turning back to look at him.

“Do you have any vacation time left?”

He can picture her raised eyebrow. “Yeah, I do. Why do you ask?”

“I'll tell you tomorrow,” he replies. It's getting harder to stay awake, now that he is comfortable and at peace. A tiny part of his mind wonders what time it is – and how long he was missing, for that matter - but most of him has decided it isn't important, at least not at the moment.

“Oookay.” She waits for a few seconds, but when he doesn't offer her anything further, she says goodnight and departs.

Charlie smiles again, drowsily, and takes as deep of a breath as he can without causing himself pain. He wonders what she will say tomorrow.

~

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ in 2010.  
> Thanks to H for the beta.


End file.
